The Strange Case of Sam Winchester
by Dr. Emma Hamish Winchester
Summary: While Sam and Dean are on a hunt, Sam gets turned into a girl. Hilarity ensues. Takes place in season six sometime shortly after The French Mistake. Requestfic. Rated T to be safe. NO SLASH. This is also my first fic. Please read and review. I will continue to update as long as I get requests. I do have an ending in mind.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

"So, Sam!" Dean called as he unloaded the food he'd gotten from its bag, "I thought today we'd go look at the bodies, you know? Scope out the territory, maybe see what we're dealing with."  
"Sounds good," An unexpectedly annoyed, unfamiliar voice came from behind him. He turned around to find himself staring at a beautiful green-eyed girl that had apparently just walked out of the bedroom. He eyed her up and down appreciatively. Tall and leggy, she was currently dressed in one of Sam's plaid shirts, the too-long sleeves rolled up and the end just managing to come about halfway down her thigh. Long brown hair flowed all the way to her hip. Funny, he didn't remember Sam bringing anyone back to the motel last night and he was fairly sure he'd know if he brought something that pretty- "Dude, stop staring at my chest." He made some sort of noise that regestered- something.  
"Huh? Oh right, sorry," He sauntered over, looked down at her, and gave her his most winning smile, "I'm Dean. I don't think we've met. So, uh, what's your name?" She gave him a look, "Dean, stop hitting on me. Seriously, dude, that's just creepy." What? The girl gave him an exasperated look, "Dean, its me. Sam. I just woke up like this. Stop laughing, this is a serious problem! I can't even get dressed! What am I supposed to... jerk." Dean couldn't help it, by this time he was doubled over with tears in his eyes, "Bitch. Hey, Samantha, how's my chin looking? I haven't been able to look down on you in years."  
"Shut up."  
"Nice hair."  
"... I hate you."

* * *

Season 6 Supernatural Intro

* * *

Sam shoved past him and walked over to the bag of food. Looking through it, he spoke, "You didn't even get me anything to eat." Dean straghtened up, wiping tears from his eyes, "Eating one burger won't kill you, you know. Oh right, gotta look out for that nice figure of yours." Sam stood fuming as Dean broke down with laughter once more. Finally he stopped, "Whew! I needed that," He glanced at Sam, who still looked like he wanted to murder something. You're beautiful when you're angry. Here, I'll tell you what. I'll go back out and get you a salad and some clothes, all right? Then we can sit down and try to figure out your... problem. Maybe you could do some research while I'm gone... Okay?" "Yeah. I guess."  
Dean picked up his keys and started toward the door, "All right then, I'll see you in a bit."

* * *

Sam poked his head around the bathroom door, "Dude, I am not wearing this." Dean sighed, "Why not?"  
"'Cause the underwire hurts, and the lace itches and... you are aware girls don't actually wear these, right?" he ducked back in and turned the offending item around in his hands, "I'm not even sure it's my size," he muttered.  
Dean called back, "Well, how am I supposed to know how bra sizes work? Having trouble? Come on out, I'll help you fasten it."  
"No." Dean's eyebrows went up, "What? Now you're shy? Like I haven't seen you naked before. I mean, the number of your diapers I've changed alone-"  
"Stop. Talking. Now." Dean threw up his hands in a conciliatory gesture and moved away from the table he had been leaning against, "Fine. Um, what about research? You find anything?" Sam came walking out of the bathroom wearing jeans, a tank top, and the plaid shirt from earlier, the bra having been abandoned on the bathroom floor, "No, not exactly. I couldn't find that anything like this has ever happened here, no missing persons, no mysterious daytime intruders." Dean picked up his burger, "So, what was the 'not exactly' for?  
Sam sat down in front of his laptop and pushed a lock of hair out of his face, "Well, I was thinking about the deaths, you know, the ones that brought us out here in the first place, and I think I might have found something."  
"Okay..."  
"So you know the one guy, um, George Morgan?"  
"Right. Cop, tasered to death with his own weapon-"  
" -But they couldn't find anything wrong with it, yeah. Well, I was looking into his background, and get this, he had four different citations for excesive force. Guy was a real jerk; and guess what, his weapon of choice?" Dean looked up, "Taser?" Sam nodded, "Yep, taser." He shook his head in an attempt to get the hair out of his face before frustratedly shoving it back, "Dude, what am I supposed to do with all this hair? Its getting really annoying." Dean took another bite out of his burger, "I don't know. What do you usually do with all that hair?" Sam stared at him, his expression settling into bitchface #64, "Very funny. Anyway, here's another one. John Asher. Killed while on a walk in the woods, right next to a large pile of beer cans. He was apparently drinking one when he was shot."  
"Yeah, that's weird."  
"More than that. Asher was an avid hunter." Dean looked up, "You mean-"  
"He shot Bambie, and he frequently put down corn to attract more deer to the area."  
"So...A hunter got hunted?"  
"And one more. I found it while you were out. A gym teacher, Michael Smith, used to push his students way too hard, you know, real 'The whistle makes me their god' type. He was found dead, from exhaustion. Apparently, he was run to death."  
Dean paused mid-bite, "Really? Wow." Sam continued, "Right, well you put that together with what's happened to me and what does that sound like to you?"  
Dean nodded, "So just desserts, huh? You thinking trickster? Because that's brutal. I mean, even for Gabriel that's brutal, and he's dead anyway, so he couldn't do it." Sam glanced back at his computer screen, "Yeah, well, he isn't the only trickster. I mean, he wasn't even a real one. There's no telling what they're really like, you know?" Dean put down his burger, "Yeah I guess. All right, well, we'd better go get a look at those bodies." The girl sitting across the table didn't budge, "Sam!" He looked up, "Yeah, well, I don't have a suit, or shoes, not to mention ID. You go check them out on your own."  
"What? No! Come on, we'll make a couple of stops on the way," he started toward the door, "Well, you coming or what?" Sam sighed, "Yeah, I'm coming."

* * *

"Agents Stark and Romanov, FBI." Dean said as they held up their badges.  
The coroner looked confused, "Stark and Romanov... aren't those two of the Avengers?" Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, "Well, I wouldn't know. I don't read comic books." The still-confused coroner turned away, shaking his head. Sam stumbled and grabbed hold of Dean's arm as they walked, "Seriously man? Heels?" Dean glanced at him, "Wanted you to look professional. Having trouble?" Sam gave him another bitchface, "I can't walk in these. You know they make girl's shoes that are, you know, normal, right?"  
"Yeah, well this is more entertaining." Sam continued to stumble as they followed the coroner back, "You're a frigging jerk."  
"Don't worry. Soon we'll find the trickster, kill it, and this will all be over." Sam glared at him, "Or you could've just gotten me some decent shoes."

* * *

The bodies were completely ordinary: no EMF, no sulfer, no other strange marks of any kind. The verdict of 'trickster' seemed more and more likely as they climbed back into the car. Sam couldn't help but notice how much easier it all was now that he didn't have to fold himself up to fit in the passenger seat. He got out his phone and dialed Bobby's number. Dean glanced at him, "What are you doing?"  
"Calling Bobby. He might have some sort of additional information. Hey! Hey Bobby?" The familiar gruff voice crackled through the phone, "Yeah. Who is this?"  
"Right. I guess I sound kind of different. Look Bobby, it's Sam. We-"  
"My ass. Listen whoever you are, next time pick a role that's halfway believable. Don't call this phone again." He hung up and Sam was left with the sound of the dial tone. He redialed, "Hey, Bobby. Listen, don't hang up. It really is me, okay? We really could use your help." There was silence. Sam half-thought he had hung up when he heard a sigh, "Fine, prove it. Tell me something only Sam knows." He cast around for an answer, hoping desperately he could find one that would satisfy the old hunter, "Um, let's see. Dean and I have both been too hell... You're the closest thing we have to a father... Oh! Crowley made you kiss him for a demon deal! You've never told anybody about that, have you? It was for Death's location and... he took a picture." Another long silence came through the line. Finally Bobby spoke, "Well, I reckon that counts. What have you idjits gotten yourselves into this time? You sound like a damn girl." Oh this was going to be awkward, "I... I sort of am, Bobby."  
"'Sort of am' what?"  
"A... girl. We're on a hunt and I woke up this morning with... you know." Bobby sounded exasperated, "And how exactly did you do that to yourself, boy? I swear, you two are gonna be the death of me."  
"We think we're after a trickster. You know, a real trickster, not some weird archangel-gone-rogue one. There are some bodies too. We just came from the morgue." Bobby paused, "You really think a pagan god has the juice for something like that?" Sam shrugged, "Honestly? We don't know. That's why we're calling you. I hoped you could help."  
"How do you boys get into these messes? I mean, first you saddle me with a couple of idjit actors in your bodies for a week, and now this! When exactly are you two gonna wise up?..." Sam listened patiently as Bobby's rant continued. Finally it peetered out, "Well, anyway, you call me if you hear anything new. You know I'll do all I can to help." Sam spoke, "Will do. Thanks Bobby...Yeah, we'll be careful...Thanks, bye."  
On the way to their next location they stopped at a Wal-mart and got Sam some flats and a sports bra, both of which he was at this point very thankful for. His chest hurt and the heels made his feet ache. He couldn't wait to get his proper body back.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for reading and following my fic. LitFan2025: Thank you so much for everything. Without you this second chapter would not be possible. And thank you for your wonderful review! The first one on this fic! I loved it and I must have read it ten times by now. I love your fic by the way. DustintheWinchester: Thank you! Bobby is one of my favorite characters and I very much enjoy writing him. I hope they do an episode like this! Oh well, maybe season 11. *sigh*  
Since I forgot it on the previous chapter, I will include it here. I do not own Supernatural or it's characters. And Sam, you long-suffering moose, I'm sorry. You knew this chapter was coming.  
Thank you again to all my lovely readers!

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

As they pulled up in front of the suburban house, Sam was getting increasingly irritated with his hair. No matter what he did with it it seemed determined to go in his face. Finally Dean turned to him, "Here, turn around." Sam glared at him through a curtain of brown, "Why?" His brother grinned and held up a hair twist, "You want that stuff out of the way, don't you? Come on, turn around and let me deal with it."

Ten minutes and a fair amount of cursing later, a relatively neat braid fell down Sam's back. They got out of the car and approached the house, home of one Michael Smith. A young man answered the door, checked their badges and invited them inside.  
They followed him through the house, absently noting the neumerous sports trophies and equiptment scattered throughout. Plaques and photos adorned the walls, the latter showing Michael with a variety of others, sometimes playing golf, sometimes baseball, sometimes some other sport. Several even displayed a number of men on horseback, apparently having just played a game of polo. In short, Michael Smith seemed to have been obsessed with sports and fitness, to the exclusion of anything else. They reached the living room, where the young man absently waved toward a couple of armchairs before seating himself, "All right, agents. What is it you wanted to ask me?" Sam spoke first, "Well, first off, if you could just tell us your name?" He seemed slightly annoyed, "James Smith." Dean took the next question, "And what is your relation to the victim?" James stared at them, "I'm his son. And before you ask, I'm here because my father just died. Someone had to deal with the house. Now if you don't mind, I'm very busy." Sam nodded, "We understand this must be hard for you. We just want to get to the bottom of your father's death, so if we could just ask you a few questions." Dean spoke, "Did you notice anything odd in the days or weeks leading up to your father's death?" James shook his head, "Odd like...?"  
"Weird noises, cold spots in the house, flickering lights-" James seemed taken aback, "Listen, buddy, I just got here a week ago. And the stuff you're describing? Sounds like a bad horror movie," He muttered under his breath, "Or maybe one of those stupid Carver Edlund books." Dean looked up, "You've read those?"  
James stared at him, "Yeah. They were awful. The plotline? Completely implausable. Especially that ending. I mean, who'd be dumb enouph to volunteer for hell? And for what? Dean didn't even get anything out of it. No money, nothing. I mean, come on! Who's actually that stupid? And the Ruby thing, ugh!" The man wittered on, blithly ignorant of his increasingly imminent peril. Sam interrupted him before he could get killed by a furious Dean, "So, not a fan, then."  
"No. I read them for my girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. She was a big Supernatural freak. I think we're done here." Dean glanced at him absently, "Yeah, well, we have a few more questions."  
James laughed, "I couldn't care less about your dumb questions," then he seemed to get an idea, "I'll tell you what, I'll answer whatever stupid questions you want to ask me on one condition." Dean smiled thinly, "Sure. What's the condition?" James grinned, "Your lovely partner there throws them at me over dinner. I know a good place." Sam stared at him in horror and started sputtering a protest. Dean rushed to his rescue, "Oh, you know, she would love to but she, uh," he laughed, "she can't. She's, you know," They spoke at the same time, "On duty." "Gay."  
Sam turned toward his brother, "I'm not gay."  
"Right now you are." "No, I'm not."  
Dean stared at him unflinchingly, "Do you like guys?"  
"What?"  
"Do you like guys?"  
"No." Dean slapped him on the shoulder, "Then you're gay. Congratulations, Tootsie, you just came out. We'll have some pie later to celebrate." He turned to James, "So, you see, it's absolutely impossible for my partner to take you up on your offer. I'm sorry but-" James spoke, "I don't mind." Dean continued talking for a moment before he realized he'd been interrupted, "Um..." James spoke again, "I didn't ask her to be attracted to me, I asked for dinner. She can be attracted to whoever the hell she pleases." Dean smiled, "Wow, you really are just a chip off the old block, aren't you. Trickster meat. Really?" James nodded. Dean looked at Sam pleadingly.  
"No."

* * *

When Sam finally returned to the motel, Dean was nowhere to be found. His best guess was that his brother had found a bar. His phone rang, "Dean?"  
"Hey Sammy! How'd the date go?" Yep, a bar. Sam sat down on his bed, "Awful. Never do that to me again."  
"Yeah, well, at least you got some information. Listen! I have something that might cheer you up."  
"I just went out on a date with a guy and he was all hands. What could possibly cheer me up?"  
"Well I met this girl, right? Angela. I mean, she is hot, dude," he whistled, "smoking." Sam smiled slightly, "Yeah, well, you go do what you gotta do. See you in the morning. Have fun."  
"No. You don't get it. She isn't interested in me. She said I was hot and asked if I had a sister." Suddunly Sam realized what his brother was getting at, "Oh, dude. That's just gross."  
"Come on Sammy! You don't enjoy yourself enouph. You know, if I was in your shoes-"  
"Yeah. I know what you'd do in my shoes and I'm trying not to think about it. Listen, I'm going to bed. See you in the morning." Dean hissed into the phone, "Sam. Sam!" Sam hung up and collapsed on the bed, to exhausted by the day's events to bother getting undressed.

* * *

Dean still wasn't there when Sam awoke the next morning, nor did the prodigal appear until he was halfway through his breakfast. That's when he came through the motel door, whistling. Sam looked up from his laptop, "Have a good night?" Dean dug another burger out of the bag from the day before and sat down at the table, "Oh yeah. Pitty about Angela though." Sam didn't bother looking away from his research to answer, "Yeah, well, she wasn't really my type. So! Listen, I've been working, and I think I might've figured out the trickster's next victim." Dean took another bite before answering, "Really? Who?"  
"James Smith."  
Dean chuckled, "Wow, man. That must've been one bad date."  
Sam flipped his laptop around in response, "Yeah, well, look at this."  
Dean glanced over the research, "That's a lot of girls. What is this?" Sam spoke, "Online stalking victims. And get this, three of his exes have restraining orders out on him. Guy's a dick."  
Dean looked over the top of the laptop, "You speaking from personal experience or just, you know, what you saw on here?" Sam gave him a bitchface, "Both. Anyway, I'd say it's our best shot at finding the trickster." Dean nodded, "So, follow Dick here around til the trickster takes a shot at him, then jump it. Sounds like a plan. When do we go?"  
"Whenever you're ready, I guess. We need some stakes." Dean put down his burger and stood up, "Right, stakes. Better get to work then," He started toward the bedroom, "Don't want this thing to gank him before we can get in on the action."

* * *

They parked the Impala on the opposite side of the street from the house and watched with binoculars. Hours passed. Sam stared at the floor, lost in thought. Dean studied him worredly, "Hey! You ok?" Sam looked up, "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"  
"Gee, I don't know Sammy. You just got turned into a girl. Something like that, it could shake things up. I mean, what if it- you know." He stopped talking, obviously unwilling to say the next words. Sam finished his sentence, "Scratched the wall? That's what you're worried about? Dean, I promise, everything's fine."  
Dean nodded, "Ok. If that's the truth."  
Sam shot him a look, "Dude, I think you would know if it broke. Will you give it a rest? I don't remember anything."  
His brother stared at him, "Yeah, well, you had your thinking face on. When you just sit there staring at your hands, I think maybe there's something going on. Sorry if I'm conserned about you. You know what Death said. If that thing breaks-" Sam glared at the floor, "I die. I know. I heard the first hundred times. Look, I'm not a moron, Dean. I'm not going to mess with it. Believe it or not, I don't want to remember Hell. Now will you just shut up about it?" Dean stared at him for a few more seconds, as if trying to decide wiether he believed him. Then he turned back toward the window and brought the binoculars up to his eyes, "Yeah, all right."  
Sam studied the floor a bit longer before speaking, "It's just, there's something I can't figure out."  
"Yeah, what's that?" Sam looked up at Dean, "Why did the trickster do this? I mean, the douchebags I get, sure. But me? Why do this to me?" Dean looked over at him, "Seriously? For fun! Because he's a dick! Since when do monsters need reasons?"  
Sam shook his head, "It just- It doesn't fit with the rest of his MO. It doesn't make sense."  
"Wow. You're way overthinking this, dude. They're called monsters for a reason. And you know what? I really don't care about the why. We find this thing, we gank it, we go home. End of story."  
Sam looked back at the floor, "Yeah. I guess."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello everyone! Wow! I can't believe how much traffic this has gotten. AlexaAsterix01: Thank you for your review. I will definately keep it in mind!  
Everyone, this is a requestfic. I need requests. PM me or include them in a review. I have written to the point where I will get started working on them. So, request away!  
I do not own Supernatural or it's characters.

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

It had been about two days now since they started following James Smith, and Dean was getting frustrated.  
"Are you sure about that research you did? 'Cause it's been two days and bupkis. I mean, come on. This guy's boring."  
Sam lowered his binoculars, "Yeah, well, it seemed pretty conclusive. Trickster's going to hit him, I garantee it." Dean stared at him for a moment before turning back to the window then looking back at Sam a second later, "It's just- there have gotta be easier ways to catch this thing. Hey! What about mapping the deaths and drawing a circle?"  
"I told you, Dean, I did that. There is no circle. He's striking all over the place. The only pattern there seems to be location-wise is that he's staying in this town. I'm sorry but this is as good as it gets." Dean grumbled to himself as he looked back out the window.  
Sam's phone rang, "Hey Bobby."  
"Hey. Listen, I've been doing a little research, trying to figure out the limit of these things' power-"  
Sam interrupted him, "Have you found anything about a way to contain them? Salt, iron, warding simbles, anything like that?"  
"Well, let me see. Oh, yes. I've heard Loki doesn't like holy oil very much," he said sarcasticly. "Look, there isn't a whole lot I've been able to dig up. Most things are, shockingly, a little vague. All the lore seems to agree on is that Loki is by far the most powerful. He's the main one there is lore on, unfortunately."  
"Well, at least it's we know we're not going up against something with full-blown archangel powers. Thanks Bobby. That's really good to know. Anything else you can give us?"  
"Yeah. You boys had better be careful. These things are tough. They can't zap away, that's the other thing I learned, but they can do just about anything but. They're probably about the most powerful monsters you'll ever meet. Probably why Gabriel decided to imitate one. Their purpose, best I can tell, is to keep the pagan gods in check. Knock them down when they get to big." Sam smiled in realization, "That's why they go after authoritarian jerks. They're not hungry, they're carrying their natural duty over into the mortal world."  
"Plus they think it's fun, but yeah, pretty much."  
Sam paused, "Hey, Bobby? What about the tricks? I mean, how do you undo them?"  
"Look, boy, don't worry. You kill it, that little problem of yours should go away. Anyway, you take care of yourselves out there."  
"Sure Bobby."  
"I wish I was covering your asses. I have a bad feeling about this."  
"Yeah, me to. Ok. Bye." He closed the phone. Dean spoke, "What'd Bobby say?"  
Sam raised his binoculars, "Nothing we didn't already know."  
"How do we get you fixed?"  
"Same as usual. Kill the trickster. Hey! Who's that coming up the sidewalk?"  
Dean looked where he pointed, "Looks like a hooker. What about it?"  
Sam looked at his brother, "If you were a trickster going after a womanizing jerk, how would you choose to attack?"  
Dean smiled, "Son of a bitch."

* * *

They watched as the woman made her way up the stairs and into the house, then quietly exited the Impala. Dean opened the trunk and grabbed their stakes, handing one to Sam as he surveyed the house. He closed the trunk and started away from the car, "What if we're wrong?"  
Sam inclined his head, "We'd better hope we're not." Dean nodded and sighed, "Right," then they continued toward the house, both carefully watching for security systems. They climbed up on the porch and circled the house until Sam located the burglar alarm. Dean disabled it, long practice making short work of the thin wires. A cry for help pierced the night, and both predators leaped up, adriniline spiking and every nerve on alert. Running to the door, they kicked it in, then, splitting up, they began the search for their quarry.  
Dean was the first to find something, his flashlight beam landing on at least twenty candy wrappers scattered on the floor. He raised his flashlight and waved it about the room, uncertain of where to go next.  
"Dean!" The shout came from elsewhere in the house. He quickly pinpointed the sound and followed it to its source, a guest bedroom in the back of the house. There he found Sam, holding his stake threateningly toward a scantily clad young woman, who looked remarkably unconcerned about her current predicament. James cowered, blanching, in the corner of the room. Dean nodded a greeting, "Hello, James. How you doing?" He turned toward Sam, keeping his eyes trained on the creature as he did so, "You ok Sammy?" Sam's gaze didn't shift as he responded, "Yeah, I'm fine."  
The woman gave a look of mock awe, "My goodness, Sam and Dean Winchester. Well, I knew hunters would show up but this- this is quality. Wow. The best of the best, all for little old me," She frowned, "Although, one of you seems to be having a bit of trouble. I'm sorry, Sammy, that really is to bad."  
Sam glared at her, "Bite me."  
Dean looked the trickster up and down, "And what's your name?"  
She smiled flirtatiously, "Oh, I have many names, most of them unpronoucible. I think the most common one, though, would have to be... Brer Fox probably."  
Dean grinned, "Well, you certainly are a foxy one, I'll give you that. Heh-heh." His grin abruptly vanished as Sam gave him a sharp look. He cleared his throught, "Anyway, this has been fun, but, uh, we have places to be." Her eyes went wide, "Oh, do you need to get down to buisiness now? Well, don't let me bother you." She waved a hand and a massive grizzly appeared behind Sam, forcing him to turn and defend himself. Dean rushed over to the trickster and swiped with his stake, to cut through nothing, the beautiful girl having been replaced by a fly. She then changed into a large hawk and beat at his face with her wings, causing him to drop the stake as his hands reflexively rose to sheild him from the razor-like feathers. "Dean!" Sam called. He was making a brave showing, but the grizzly had a distict size advantage and his stake had little effect on the trickster-made beast. Dean was, by now, kneeling, head bowed and arms raised in a desperate attempt to ward off talons, beak and feathers.  
The bird retreated a couple of yards, before morphing to a lion in preparation for the death blow. Dean stared in horror from his place on the floor, watching as its legs gathered under it, its tail swept as it coiled for the final spring. Dean tried to block out Sam's screams as everything went into slow motion. "I'm sorry, Sammy," he thought, glancing at his brother's wide eyes and horrified gaze. Then he prepared himself for death.  
Which didn't come. James rose from his place in the corner, crawling to grasp Dean's stake. The lion screamed in agony as he jammed the weapon between its shoulder blades, then it sank to the ground, where it lay, unmoving. The bear disappeared, and the brothers stared about in slight bewilderment as James sank to the ground, shock and adriniline finally taking its toll. The Winchesters approached the body, slightly hesitent as though worried it might come back to life.  
Dean lightly kicked the beast, and shook his head, "Well, at least that's over." He turned to James, "That was beautiful. Excellent work, buddy." James nodded, seemingly more interested in regulating his breathing and staving off shock then responding to Dean's praise. Dean looked around, "Wow, this place is a mess. Hey, James. Don't suppose you could deal with this on your own, could you? We're kind of busy. We'll, uh, we'll take care of the throw rug." He looked at Sam, who was glaring daggers, "What?"  
"I don't feel any different."  
It was then that Dean remembered Sam's problem, "You don't look any different. 'Course, it's hardly a change, what with all that girly hair of yours. Was Bobby sure about that research?"  
Sam nodded, "He seemed pretty sure." Dean sighed and walked over to the body, throwing it over his shoulder before addressing James, who had not moved the entire time, "Take care of yourself, James. Uh, see you around sometime, maybe." He adjusted the lion, "Man this thing's heavy!" He started toward the door, "Okay, Sammy, let's go."

* * *

They put the carcass in the back seat, then started toward the edge of town. Dean took out his phone and scrolled through his contact list before selecting one, "Hey Bobby."  
"Hey Dean. What happened?" He glanced at Sam, "Well, we killed the trickster..."  
"And? How's Sam?"  
Dean felt extremely frustrated, "How do you think? It didn't work! Are you sure about that research you did?"  
"Yeah. Killing it should have gotten rid of the problem. Unless- how sure are you you actually killed the trickster?"  
"Oh, come on! We are not playing this game again. We're pretty sure, Bobby. We have the body in the backseat. We're on our way to burn it."  
Bobby sounded skeptical, "Okay, just remember, these things are tricky bastards. So make sure you didn't miss something."  
"Yeah, Bobby. Bye." He hung up and they drove in silence. Sam stared out the window, going over the case in his head, trying to determine what went wrong.  
Dean white-knuckled the steering wheel and contemplated ways to slowly kill a trickster. Very slowly. Preferably days.

* * *

They finally arrived at a large field outside of town. Sam dug a shallow grave while Dean carried the body from the car. He laid it in the dirt, salted, and burned it. In all honesty, he wasn't entirely certain the salt was really necessary, but he wasn't taking any chances. They stood, watching the flames die down, then Dean buried the ashes. They didn't say a word all the way back to the motel, and they went to bed, thoroughly exhausted, in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Wow! Over 240 visitors to this fic! Thank you! And more follows and favs! You people are amazing! Still, I cannot write requests if no one sends me any. PM or review. Please?

* * *

Chapter 4

* * *

The next day started normally. Sam woke up early, went for a jog and fetched breakfast and coffee. He walked through the door just as Dean stumbled out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed and half asleep. He bumped into the table and muttered a curse. Sam smiled, "Well, look who's up. Good morning!" Dean looked up, "Damn. So that really happened. It really didn't work. Thought it was just a bad dream." He rummaged through the bag of takeout before looking at Sam, "Dude, where's my burger?"  
"I got you a salad. Thought your organs might appreciate some real nutrition after all the abuse you put them through."  
"Sam! I've told you! I can't eat rabbit food, I'm a warrior!" Sam's expression subsided into pure bitchface. Dean stared at him for a second, then, grumbling, took one of the salads and his coffee. He pointed a finger in Sam's face, "Just this once," then walked over to sit at the table. He sat down, eyeing Sam up and down, "Are you always gonna wear that for jogging? 'Couse I could get used to this in the morning." Sam stared at him awkwardly, "Shut up." Dean laughed a little, "You can't take yourself so seriously, Sammy. You gotta lighten up, relax!" Sam looked at him like he had grown three heads. Dean set down his coffee, "Well, what's on the agenda for today?"  
"Um, I thought we should recheck the research, you know, go back over the bodies, visit some of the other victims, go over James's house if he'll let us." Dean nodded, "See where we went wrong, yeah. Ok," He stood up, "Well I guess we had better get going."

* * *

The coroner viewed them with suprise, "Agents! W-what are you doing back? I thought-"  
Dean spoke, "Yeah well, there've been some complications. We're going to need to see those bodies again." The man did not seem particularly happy to hear this, in fact his expression soured conciderably, but he escorted them back and pulled out the victims, "I don't know what you hope to find. You and the police have already been over them with a fine tooth comb. Just make sure you clean up before you leave. I don't want to deal with your mess." They watched him as he left, standing still until they heard the door to the morgue slam. Dean whistled, "Wow. Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed," he sighed, "Anyway, I guess, um, I'll take Bambie, and you take, uh, Rambo over there. Okay?" Sam nodded. Dean spoke, "Good. Let's get started."  
And so it began, the endless checking and rechecking of corpses, case files, and coroner's reports that was such a large part of any hunt. The annoying thing was, they had already done these. They had been meticulous the first time, and they really didn't know what they were looking for. Moreover, every time they thought they had found something, they hit a brick wall. Finally, tired and frustrated, they gave up. They hadn't missed anything the first time. The one had been shot, the other electrocuted, plain and simple. They didn't even know what they had hoped to find. A book, Killing Tricksters for Dummies, maybe?  
Dean spoke as they exited the hospital, "Well that was a great big waste of time. Three hours and we have a big steaming pile of nothing."  
"We're rechecking everything. Of course we were thorough, that's our job. We must have missed something though, so we just have to keep digging until we find it."  
Dean rolled his eyes as he got into the car, "Thank you, Ellen. I wish I had your unflagging optimism."

* * *

They went to the homes of the other two victims and interviewed the grieving families. Actually, George Morgan's wife didn't seem very sad. It seemed his brutality hadn't ended with tasering suspects. The other one, John Asher, was every bit as obsessed with hunting as they had thought. He had a massive gun rack in his front room, and stuffed heads adorned every wall. Dean commented that if they did that with their kills they would be called monsters and "be dumped in prison for life." They were very glad to leave it. Finally, they went back to James's house. They held up their badges as he opened the door, "Oh no. Not you guys. Go away! I never want to see you again!" Dean stopped him as he tried to close the door, "Why not?"  
"Why not? Isn't yesterday enouph reason? You people show up, then I get attacked by a shapeshifting hooker, then you kick down my front door and take it on like it's nothing, distroying my dad's house in the process. I just got out of the hospital, for shock and trauma. I couldn't even tell them why. Should I go on?"  
"No. I think you've covered it." Sam spoke, "Please understand, we're just trying to find the thing that killed your dad and bring it to justice. Don't you want that?"  
James crossed his arms, "My dad was a controlling, obsessed jerk. So the idiot went overboard with running, or-or got killed by some freak or whatever, I. Don't. Care," He paused, "You guys aren't FBI, are you." Dean stepped closer to the glaring man, "No we're not. We are a whole lot more helpful then those dicks will ever be. They're useless, believe me. Right Sam?" Sam shot him a look, then nodded. Dean continued, "Look, I know you don't like us, or care about your father, but this thing has already killed three people in this town, it killed your dad, it tried to kill you, and people will keep dying until we figure out what the hell is going on and stop it. Now will you help us?" He stared at them for a few seconds, then gave a miniscule nod. "Ok. Now, we need to check over this house. Anything unusual or out of place, you tell us about it. Got it?" James looked shocked, "What? Me?" Dean glared at him, "Yeah, you. You know what's in this house and where. We don't. What can I say, this is what you get for dating my brother."  
"YOUR WHAT?!"  
"-Now get moving."  
Sam and Dean walked off to separate parts of the house, leaving behind an extremely confused and freaked out James, "Did- did he just say brother? I think he just said brother. Why would he say brother?"  
"HEY! DUDLEY MOORE! LESS TALKING, MORE LOOKING!"  
He started at Dean's voice and scuttled off, too frightened and confused to protest.

* * *

"SON OF A BITCH!" Dean yelled, slamming the front door behind them as they left. They had found almost nothing. Candy wrappers were the main thing. At least fifty, from all over the house. There was also a stake, apparently dropped and forgotten in the fight. Other than that, the house was clean. Sam rushed back to where his brother had started to pace James's front yard, "Come on, Dean. Let's go. We can go get some lunch," He glanced at his watch, "Or dinner, or whatever. I'll see what I can find online, recheck Bobby's research, and then we can see where we stand." Dean didn't seem to have heard him, "We are not playing this game with another trickster, do you hear me? This is not happening. I am finding this damn thing, and when I do, I am ganking its ass. And I'll enjoy it too. Do you HEAR ME, YOU BASTARD?! THIS IS WAR!" Sam grabbed his arm, "Sure, Dean, yeah, I know. But it's three-thirty. I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat, and I'll do some computer work." Dean glared and muttered under his breath, but he allowed Sam to lead him back to the Impala and climbed inside. Sam walked around too his side of the car, pausing to wave innocently at a couple of suburbanites that had stopped to stare at the insane man on the Smith's lawn, standing there yelling at the sky.

* * *

They stopped at a small diner. Per usual, Dean ordered a burger and fries, and Sam got a salad. Sam opened his laptop and connected to the diner wifi. He briefly wondered how it was that a tiny diner in a podunk town in the middle of nowhere would have that, but he had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, or in this case about five large stables, concidering all the diners and $20 motels with free wifi he had run into over the years. He pushed the issue out of his mind and got on Google.

Finding information on real tricksters wasn't easy, but then, research never was. His salad sat off to one side, forgotten and untouched, as he became engrossed in his work. Dean spoke, "Hey, does anything about this picture seem wrong to you?" He tore his attention away from an article he had found to scan the diner, then shook his head, "Um, no. Looks normal to me."  
"Check out the customer over there in the corner. You see that?" He located the individual Dean was talking about, a balding, rather mousy-looking man in glasses reading the paper, "Dean, It's just a guy."  
"He's been sneaking glances at us since we walked in. And what full-grown man orders an ice-cream sunday and a strawberry milkshake?" Sam had to agree Dean had a point, "Okay, that is weird," He glanced back at the article he had been reading, "And Bobby's research checks out. He was right. Kill the trickster, reverse the tricks. Only way, unless, of course, the trickster himself desides to help out." Dean nodded and took another bite out of his burger, returning his attention to the suspicious man in the corner.  
They waited until he left the diner, then quietly exited after him, leaving their payment on the table. They followed him for a few blocks, before pulling him into an alley. He started to beg, offering them his wallet and valubles if they would just let him go. Sam put a stake to his neck, "We know what you are, so don't bother."  
"I-I don't know what you're talking about. My name is John Neville, I'm here on buisness. I don't have much with me but you're welcome to take it."  
Dean spoke, sounding annoyed, "Oh, shut up. It's over. You're not walking away from this one, Fox. You're done. Finished. There's one thing I don't get, though. We killed you, I burned your body myself. So why are you still breathing?"  
"Maybe because it wasn't me." The elderly man disappeared, leaving in his place a far more familiar face.  
"Son of a- How?..."  
"Always with the stakes. I thought we covered this last time. Those. Don't work on me." Sam stepped away in shock, "...Gabriel?"  
He grinned, "Hi guys," He looked from one brother to the other, "What? I heard you two yahoos were in town, how could I resist."  
Sam suddunly realized, "You did this to me."  
The archangel stepped away from the wall, "There's that Winchester brillience, slowly clanking into action. Really, guys, you honestly thought a pagan god had the mojo for something like that? Come on!"  
Dean moved towards him angrily, "You killed those people. Brer Fox never existed, did she."  
"I didn't kill anyone. Brer Fox was real. Good job taking her out, by the way. In case you geniuses haven't figured it out yet, I'm not actually a trickster. Loki was witness protection; a role I was playing to fool the pagans, and dodge heaven. It was a perfect disguise, and now, thanks to you two, everyone knows who he is."  
Dean smiled sarcasticly, "My heart breaks for you."  
Sam broke in, "I don't understand. Lucifer stabbed you. We watched you die. How are you here?"  
"You think Castiel is the only one on Daddy's nice list? Yeah, I died. In case you were wondering where angels go, I had a nice long chat with Dad, then He sent me back."  
Dean chuckled darkly, "So, what, you're God's bitch now?"  
Gabriel frowned, and for just a moment, Sam remembered exactly how powerful and dangerous he was. He was an archangel. One thought and they could be wiped off the map, "No. Well, yeah, from time to time He asks me to do something, but, what can I say? He's a fan of free will. He should be, He invented it."  
Dean muttered, "I can't tell."  
Gabriel whistled, "Wow. Seriously? You guys are the poster children for Dad-sanctioned free will. How much does He have to do for you, Dean, to earn your alliegence? No, better question, what, exactly, has He not done for you?" Dean glared at him, "Whatever. We're done." He motioned toward Sam, "Fix him, and let's go."  
The archangel tilted his head, "Ummm, no. I don't think so."  
"Why the hell not? You've had your fun."  
"Because this isn't about 'fun.' This is about what you deserve."  
"What?! Sam doesn't deserve this!" Dean yelled.  
"You're right. He doesn't. You do. This is about you. That's why it's so mild. That's for Sam's sake, not yours. If I was to give you what you deserve, your precious Sammy would be on the ground right now, taking a stroll down memory lane."  
Dean stared at him, "You wouldn't."  
"Oh I would. Just. Like. That." Sam eyed him nervously as he snapped his fingers, "Lucky for you, I'm a nice guy."  
Dean still looked shocked, "What'd I do to you?"  
"Well let's see. You started the apocalypse, don't even try to pin that on Sam, it was all you. You got me killed, for nothing. But, the main thing is, you took my brother and you turned him into your pet. He was happy, following heaven's orders, then you came and ridiculed him for not having a mind of his own. So he rebelled, but not to have free will, oh no. He traded heaven's orders, for yours. You hypocrite! He helped you and helped you again and again. He threw away his entire life for you and how did you repay him? He asked you for help finding Dad and you laughed in his face. You used him. And I won't stand for it! You hear me? I WON'T STAND FOR IT!" Sam was starting to become genuinely concerned for their safety, "Um, Dean? Maybe we should go." Dean held up his hand in a staying gesture, "Look, first off, you weren't exactly supportive yourself. And while you're sipping pina coladas, there's an insane archangel trying to take over the universe. Where are you while Cas fights this out?"  
"Um, I told you. This is just the sort of thing I left heaven to avoid, all the infantile squabbling and politics. Castiel's a big boy. He can take care of himself. The last thing he needs is another archangel getting in the middle of this. It'd be Michael and Lucifer all over again."  
Dean smiled thinly, "Yeah. Okay fine. Whatever. Make all the excuses you want. Anyway, look, you can do whatever you want to me, but if Sam isn't part of this, let him go. Punish me, not him."  
"Oh, but I am punishing you. Don't you get it? You don't care about yourself, just your darling Sammy. To get to you, I need to go through him. So I am. Still, I like to think of myself as a merciful man, so, I'll tell you what. You find me again, like this, so that we're talking face to face, and I'll fix him. That's the condition. That's the game. Find me, and we'll talk." He disappeared and Dean stood for a few seconds, glaring up at the sky. Then he turned to walk out of the alley, "Next time I see that son of a bitch, I won't be talking. I'm gonna shiv his ass."

* * *

Things were tense as they packed up the motel room. This unexpected turn of events complicated things, and neither was certain what to say. Dean walked out the door to put the weapons and his duffle in the trunk. Sam followed him out shortly after, set down his own duffle, turned to his brother and sighed, "Thanks."  
Dean looked surprised, "For what?"  
"Standing up to Gabriel back there. I mean, it was a miracle he didn't smite us into oblivian, but, thanks."  
Dean stared at him, "Don't worry about it. You know, we are going to get out of this, Sammy." Sam started toward his side of the car, "Yeah, I know."  
"I mean it. We'll find him, he'll fix you, and this will all be over." They climbed into the car.  
Dean started up the Impala.  
"DUDE LOOKS LIKE A LADY!"  
Dean looked at Sam, then broke into laughter. Sam pleaded with his brother, "Come on, Dean. Turn it off," he said, wincing at how petulant he sounded. Dean turned the volume still higher and began to sing along, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as they drove out of town.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Wow. Still no requests? Please send me some, I need ideas. Thank you for all the follows and favs, unfortunately, without requests to give me ideas, this fic will progress a little more slowly. Requests = Chapters, people. In the meantime, I am working on another fic, so please go read it! I might have inserted it into this chapter. See if you can find it. I still love you guys! And I would like, once again, to apologize to Sam.

I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

"I don't believe it."  
They had stopped in a town for the night, and Sam was sitting at the motel table looking for a case. Dean walked over, "What?" He looked at the computer screen, "Son of a bitch. Seriously? I thought we gave him a warning last time."  
Sam turned back to his laptop, "Yeah, well, apparently it wasn't enouph." Dean started toward the other section of the room, partitioned of with a screen, and a couple of feet lower than the rest of it. There was actually a stair between the two sections. He sat on his bed and took off his shoes, "I guess we know where we're going after this. Go to bed Samantha, we leave in five hours."  
Sam sighed and closed his laptop, "Yeah, okay."

* * *

Dean pounded on the door. He wasn't in the mood for this. They had enouph going on without more getting dumped on their plate. He was about to pick the lock when the door opened. A man stood on the other side, wearing a bathrobe and looking remarkably like a groveling, submissive dog that wanted to be somewhere else, "Oh, um, hi guys," he noticed the other Winchester, "Sam, uh, wow. So it's true. You really are, uh... you look good."  
Sam spoke, "You knew about this?" Chuck scratched the side of his face and looked like he wanted to leave, "Uh, I might have had a vision about it, yeah."  
Dean stared at him, "And you didn't think to warn us?"  
"Sorry? I'm trying to keep my head down. I'd rather Raphael didn't remember my existence. He might decide a prophet's a tactical advantage."  
Dean glared at him, "I thought we said no more books."  
"Right. Well um, it's just a prequel."  
"I don't care what it is. No more books means no more books. And prequels are embarassing."  
"I'm sorry, okay? I need money. The sales from the books already out aren't enouph for me to live."  
"Whatever. Fix it."  
He looked abjectly miserable, "I can't. Once it's published, it's published. Nothing I can do about it. Why don't you guys come in off my porch?"  
They followed him inside. Dean spoke, "Can't you at least fix the title? The Long and Winding Road is stupid."  
"You guys want a drink? Sam? Dean? Oh, okay. Well, you don't mind if I do?" Chuck poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and downed it, finishing the entire thing in one go, "Look, like I said guys, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you felt so strongly about it. It isn't like I wrote about you coming back from hell and Sam drinking demon blood. Those books are safely on my laptop, and I swear I won't publish them."  
"Hi Sam!" A voice came from the doorway, and the brothers turned to see Becky on her way over. She grabbed Sam in a hug, "So it's true. Oh, you poor baby, let me help! Gabriel's awful to even think about hurting you, my darling. And after everything you've been through. You went to hell for a year! Don't worry, everything is going to be okay. I'll protect you, my baby!" Sam struggled to breath and eyed Dean in desperation, "Uh... Yeah, okay. Um, Becky, can you let go of me now?" She eventually let go and stood back from him, his hands in hers as she looked him over, "Wow. I'm impressed. It's a good look for you. Not as good as before, but it definately could have been worse. You carry it off." She turned, "And Dean! I'm so sorry!" He looked confused, "... for what?"  
"I read the new book! It was so sad! John may have been grief-striken, but that was no excuse to treat you the way he did."  
"Uh, it's okay, really."  
"No it's not! You had to grow up so fast! I'm so sorry you never got to be a child!"  
"Right. Anyway Chuck," He said, slowly backing towards the door, "Just don't publish any more books. Last warning."  
"Okay. Got it." "Good." They turned and fled, bolting to the car and getting inside.  
Dean spoke, "Wow. Is it just me or does she get worse every time we see her?"  
Sam looked at him, "No, she's definately worse."

* * *

They sat in a motel room, Sam on his laptop, Dean with a book in his hand, "I don't believe this. How could he have thought this was okay to publish? Everything's in here, dude! Us in Lawrence after the fire, Dad meeting Missouri, Bobby, everything. I'm reading about Mom learning to use her ghost mojo! Seriously!"  
Sam inclined his head, "Guy's good. Hey, what did he say about high school? Did he include you cheating on every single one of your girlfriends about five times over?"  
Dean stared at him, then looked back at the book, "I haven't gotten there yet. You finding anything?"  
"Nope. Nothing. Wherever Gabriel is, he's hiding his tracks."  
"What about a case?"  
"Nothing yet."  
"Hey! I have an idea. If Raphael might want a prophet, let's give him one."  
"Dean, what-"  
"He shows up to grab Chuck, we trap him in some holy oil and gank him. Problem solved!"  
"Dean, I think if Raphael wanted Chuck, he would have gotten him already. And we are nowhere even remotely close to ready for a high noon stand-off with an archangel. Also, I'm pretty sure using Chuck as bait is probably really unethical."  
Dean sighed, "Fine. Whatever. At least then I wouldn't have to read any more Choose Your own Adventure's, starring us."  
"No one ever forced you to read them."  
"Yeah, well, I want to know exactly how much of my life is on display."

* * *

Sam walked through the parking lot, glad for the fresh air. He loved Dean, but sometimes the close quarters could be somewhat... confining. He stood, staring at the sky, paying very little attention to his surroundings.  
Suddunly he felt a sharp pain in his neck, he clapped a hand to it, and felt the tasseled end of a tranquilizer dart. Then everything went black.

He woke up on a table of some sort, strapped down with wires attached to various parts of his anatomy. He couldn't quite tell where he was and he struggled to turn his head. He heard a voice, "Uh-uh. Now don't try anything," It called to someone else in the room, "Tamara, I think our visitor here is awake." A pair of heads appeared above him. The one who had spoken first was a balding, middle-aged, avarage-looking white man with a head shaped remarkably like an egg. Looking at him more closely, Sam became unsure that he was even middle-aged, the premature balding merely giving that effect. In reality, he didn't seem much older than Dean.  
The other individual was less noticable for her beauty then the incredible malice and hatred in her eyes. A very lovely young black woman, she wore a jogging outfit, a strange juxtaposition with the pair's current activity. Which raised another question. What was their current activity?  
"What are you going to do with me?"  
Egg-Head spoke, "Me? Nothing. Tamara here's going to talk to you, ask you some questions, and she had better like the answers."  
"Oh. An interrogation... fun..."  
Tamara looked at Egg-Head, "Greg, you might want to go watch our backs," She gripped his arm as he turned to leave, "Don't worry, baby. Your turn's coming. We'll deal with your father next."  
'Greg' smiled, "I know. You'll help me avenge him. Now you have fun. This one's yours after all." They kissed above the table, which Sam found relatively sickening, then he heard Greg leave the room. Tamara smiled down at him, "Well now. At last. Just you and me, baby. Let's get started."  
She walked over to a large machine and leaned against it, her hand resting on a swich, "Ok, now I'm going to give you a little jolt, just to let you know I mean buisiness, then we'll talk." She threw the swich and Sam arched, electricity surging through him, the pain to intense to even scream. It lasted for a few seconds, then she turned it off, "Okay, now, what are the demons planning?"  
"Oh no, not more of you guys. Look, I don't know. I wish I did. But I don't and that's the end of it."  
She shook her head, "You're disappointing me Sammy. You honestly expect me to believe that? You don't know anything?"  
"I don't!"  
"Sure. Hell's little blood-drinking, demon-screwing bitch-boy that jump-started the apocalypse doesn't know a thing. Oh well." She flipped the swich again, leaving it on as she talked, "How stupid do you think I am? Just tell the truth, Sammy, it'll make things a whole lot easier for you." A few more seconds, and the pain ended. He breathed heavily, "Please. Don't you think... if I knew anything... I'd have told you by now?"  
"I don't know. You could hold out for hours, or days for all I know, but there's plenty more juice in this thing, and I've got all the time in the world."  
"Just... Please... Mercy." That seemed to infuriate her. She flipped it back on, "What? Like you showed my brother? Why should I?"  
Off "What? What... did I do?"  
"Oh that's right. Demon spawn don't keep track of their kills, do they. My brother, Tyrell. He was a good boy, sweet, kind, and you killed him like it was nothing, like you were swatting a fly."  
"Who... was he?"  
"A contestant in Azazal's Hunger Games. He didn't ask to be a phycic. He had a life, college, a girlfriend, then the headaches started, a few months before he turned twenty-two. It got worse, he could read minds, he said. Everyone thought he was crazy, but I believed him. After all, he tried it on me and was right every time, but it kept going, kept getting worse. Finally, he refused to leave his room. He was hearing everyone's thoughts, all the time. Then it happened."  
"What?" He desperately wanted her to keep talking. If she was talking, she wasn't hurting him.  
She continued, "I came home one day to find my family dead, throughts cut, a window open. Tyrell was missing, and the police said he did it, but he didn't. I knew my brother, and he wasn't capable of something like that. I tracked him down, learned Azazal's plan, found the town, but it was too late. It was over. But I knew it had been a fight to the death, last kid standing gets the purse, so I knew how to find his killer. The last blood phycic. And it turns out, it's you."  
On Off He relaxed, trying to recover from the pain, "Look, I swear, I was there, but I didn't kill anyone. Not everyone was in that town at the same time. I never even met your brother. Please... let me go!"  
She smiled, "Look, buddy, at this point, I don't really much care. Magic killed my brother. You're magical, you're the last phycic, so his death comes out of your ass."  
On.

* * *

Dean was starting to get worried. Sam should have been back by now. He walked out into the parking lot, "Sam?" he called.  
No response.  
He walked around, checking more throughly, "Sammy?"  
His heart raced. Something was wrong. He ran back inside and grabbed his phone, scrolling through the contact list until he found Sam's name. He dialed, putting it up to his ear. It rang, then he heard, "Hi. This is Sam Winchester. Leave your message at the beep."  
He was getting really frightened, "Sam! Answer your phone, dammit!" He hang up and concidered. He was now thoroughly convinced Sam was in trouble. An image of that awful motel room came into his mind, Sam seizing on the floor, his head full of Hell. What if the wall had broken, and he was all alone? He pushed the image out of his mind. No. He wasn't going to concider that possibility. An idea came into his head, and he hurredly dialed another number, "Hey, Chuck?"  
"Hi, Dean, what is it?"  
"Do you know where Sam is?"  
Chuck sounded confused, "What?"  
"What have you seen about today?"  
"I don't understand. W-what are you asking me? I haven't seen anything about today. What's wrong, Dean?"  
"Sam's missing."  
"Oh, um, wow. Well, I'm sorry. I just don't know."  
"Yeah, thanks." He hung up and tossed the phone on the table. He had to find him.

* * *

A/N: Wow, that came out a lot darker than I expected. So, uh, yeah, Crossover Alert! Basically, it annoyed me in OUAT how we never got Tamara's backstory, especially as she seemed to be the more vicious of the two hunters. So I came up with this headcanon. I promise I will try not to go this dark ever again. Anyway, this is what happens when you leave me to come up with my own plotlines.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you for reading! And more follows and favs! I love you guys! maxfan28535: Bless you, wonderful person. A review on each of my fics. I can't thank you enouph. This is not a crossover fic. I may occationally give further glimpses of OUAT, but infrequently, only where canon intersect, and only because I concider SuperOnce to be canon. Also Greg and Tamara are still out there and they just hurt Sam. I'm glad you like the premise. I actually got the idea from some humorous fanart I saw on facebook. I wish the show would do something like this... After all, Sam has been a car, how bad can a genderswich be?  
I promise, fluff and humor is coming... and I apologize again for injuring our poor little Sammy. Please... requests... I'm starving over here. And reviews. Thanks!

I do not own Supernatural or it's characters.

****************************************************************************************************************************  
Chapter 6 ****************************************************************************************************************************

In desperation he walked back out into the parking lot, searching for a clue, any clue. His foot hit against something and he stopped to pick it up, his gaze meeting a tranquilizer dart. Oh no. Kidnappers.  
He tried to calm himself as his throught started to close up. Come on, Dean. Don't panic. Panicing won't do Sammy any good. Think. He looked around, carefully scrutinizing the parking lot, and spotted a CCTV camera. Yahtzee! He grinned. Now for getting a look on the footage... preferably without a replay of the Benders. That was the last thing he needed.  
He concidered his options for obtaining them, then bowed his head, "Hey, uh, Cas! Balthazar! Hell, I'd even take Gabriel at this point, but one of you sons of bitches had better get his ass down here! I need help, and some ass-kicking angel action would be really useful right now. So, uh, yeah." He opened his eyes and looked around, then turned back to the motel door when no help appeared. "Yeah. Thanks for nothing, guys," he muttered as he made his way back inside. So he was on his own huh? Well that was just freaking fine with him.

He thought, no invisible angel to get security footage, and he really didn't want to go to the police station. He ran his hands through his hair. Come on, you worthless idiot, think! What if this was a normal hunt? What would you do?  
Case the area, see what likely abandoned buildings were around, then start driving to check them. Normally he would have a map, but this time he didn't have time for that. He pulled Sam's laptop across the table.

A few hours later, he sat, with a list in his hand, driving to every abandoned building he had been able to find. He had checked five so far, with no results. He pulled up in front of an old mill of some kind.  
He walked through it, forcing himself to go slowly, the way he had been trained, covering himself with his gun and flashlight. He walked through room after room, and finally gave up. It had been ten minutes. This one was a bust too. Cross it off the list. He turned to leave.  
"...ean." He froze. It had been almost inaudible, but he could have sworn he heard something. He turned around, "Sammy?" He called.  
"Help...ean..." He followed the voice, trying to pinpoint its source. Then he saw it.  
If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed it was a pile of garbage. Looking for a person, when he knew they were in the room, he could make out a body, dumped uncerimoniously in a corner. He ran to his brother, "Sam! Sammy. Oh, you're in bad shape." Sam wasn't even looking at him, his head was turned in an entirely different direction, and he was staring at nothing. Dean desperately snapped his fingers in front of his nose, with no response, "Sam. Oh crap, what did they do to you, man? Okay, let's see... um, you need a hospital." He hurredly changed position to slide his hands under him, one under his knees, the other under his shoulders, "Can you hear me? I need you to put your arms around my neck. Can you do that?" Sam's hands moved a couple of inches before he scrunched his face up and stopped, "...hurts..." Dean grabbed his arms and threw them around his neck, Sam finally linking his fingers loosly together, "Okay, that'll have to do. Come on, Sammy." He stood up, and Sam's head fell worryingly backwards. Dean managed to rearrange him slightly so his head rested against Dean's chest. He started for the door, "Bet you're glad for Gabriel now, huh Sammy? I couldn't do this with you as a giant sasquatch."  
He made his way to the Impala as quickly as he could, settling Sam in the passenger seat. He floored the accelerater, and silently apologized to his baby as the tires spun and squealed in protest before gaining traction. He looked over at Sam as he drove, "Hey! How many fingers am I holding up?" he said, his hands still gripping the wheel.  
"Can't...see. ...spots...colored..." Dean willed the car to go faster.  
"So...tired..." Oh no, "Sam no! Come on, don't go to sleep, you hear me? Don't you dare go to sleep!" He reached a hand over to shake his little brother, "We're almost there. Hold on, don't you die on me now! You do that and I swear I will kick your ass! Just a little longer, Sammy. Just hold on a little longer." He pled with him, keeping up a running commentary all the way to the hospital.

He lifted him out of the passenger seat, then ran into the ER, "Doctor! We need a doctor here!" The receptionist looked up, a bored expression on her face, "Sit down, here's some paperwork you can fill out. We'll call your name when we're ready for you." Dean stared at her, "My br- my sister is dying, and you want me to fill out paperwork?" She glanced at Sam, "I don't see any blood."  
"You're a freaking receptionist!" Sam moaned, and shifted a little against him, "...ean...hurts..." Dean looked down at him, "It's okay, Sammy, its going to be okay." He looked back at the woman, "Can't we at least have some ice, or asprin, or morphine, or something?" The expression did not change, "I am not authorized to give out medication without a doctor's approval." He started toward her threateningly, "Well, sweetheart, you had better BECOME freaking authorized, because Sam is in pain, and he had sure as hell better not be sometime in the next five minutes!"  
"Sir, if you could just calm down."  
"Calm down! I am calmed down! My sister is going to die in the damn Emergency Room, and not one of you will even lift a finger to get her some pain meds! I'll tell you what else, if she dies, I am holding each and every one of you responsible, and believe me, you do not want that!"  
A fat man in a blue security uniform casually made his way over, "What seems to be the problem?"  
Dean glared at him, "The problem? Sam is dying, in horrible pain and agony, and I'm talking to your ugly, fat mug. That's the problem!"  
The security guard looked at Sam, "I don't see an injury. Don't worry, she's fine." Dean bounced Sam lightly, trying to get a better hold, "You know what? Screw this." He pushed past the man and walked toward the red double doors of the ER proper, "Don't worry Sammy, this way to doctors. You're not gonna die, not on my watch."  
"Sir... Sir!" He turned around and gave the receptionist the finger, before kicking the doors open and going through.

Dean finally managed to get a doctor's attention. Dr. Sean Thomson was walking along and suddunly found himself staring at a person in the hallway, a young man holding a woman, yelling to all and sundry, "What's wrong with you sons of bitches?! Can't you see what's going on?! You're doctor's, dammit! She's dying! Now help!" He moved over to him, "What's wrong?" The man looked at him, a confrontational look on his face that was rather spoiled by the tears welling up in his eyes, "My sister's had an accedent. Please, they won't even give her anything for pain. She's all I have." his heart broke at how pitiful and pleading the last part sounded. He looked down at the girl, studying her for symtoms, "Yeah, the people here can be a bunch of- Oh my God!" He grabbed a nurse, "Get this woman into a room ASAP. Hurry!" The nurse nodded and rushed off for a stretcher. He turned back to the man, "What happened?"  
"I don't know. I just found her like this. I got her over here as fast as I could. I've been trying to get help for about the past fifteen minutes." The nurse returned with a stretcher, and, reluctantly, the man laid the girl down on it.  
"Good. You've probably just saved her life. Now get back to the waiting room. There's information we need, and we'll alert you if anything changes."  
"Uh-uh. I stay with Sam. You want me to fill out forms, I'll do it sitting in the room by her side." Sean stared at the man, then sighed in resignation, "Okay."

Sean walked out of the room. He had been forced to kick Sam's brother out while they hooked up the IVs and other equipment to keep him out of the way, as Dean literally would not leave his sister's side. He was impressed with the pair, with how close they were, and couldn't help remembering how he hardly spoke to his own sister outside of holidays. He approached Dean, who appeared to be praying, a judgement he reconcidered as he heard the rather uncomplementary and angry things coming out of his mouth. The young man jumped to his feet as he approached, "What's the verdict, Doc?"  
"Well, she has sustained significant injury, and I have some questions, but she'll live." Dean nodded, then looked at him, "Thank you."  
"What happened?"  
Dean looked confused, "What do you mean?"  
"How did she recieve these injuries? This was... she was electricuted repeatedly for extended periods over several hours. It's the only way I can explain it. And I'll be damned if I can think of a way outside of being interrogated by the gestapo that that could happen."  
"Like I said, Doc, I don't know. I came home and she was lying on the floor."  
Sean studied the man, unsure if he believed him, "Okay... I'll come to you again if I have any questions. In the meantime, you're welcome to go in."  
Dean ran into the room. It was an awful sight, his brother, so small and venerable, hooked up to five different machines. He wanted to kick himself. This was his fault. He had failed Sam again, and now he was getting to see the aftermath.  
He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and dialed. It rang a few times before he heard a familiar gruff voice on the other end, "Hello?"  
"Bobby?"  
"What's wrong, Dean? You sound like your dog just died."  
"Sam's hurt, Bobby. It's really bad."  
"What happened?"  
"I don't know, but my bet is on hunters. They kidnapped him, and I didn't find him again for ages. We're okay now. He's in the hospital."  
"I'll be down there as soon as I can. Where are you?"  
Dean told him the town and state and the conversation ended fairly quickly. He looked over at Sam.  
A faint groan emenated from the bed and he hurried over, gripping the offered hand as hard as he could. The warmth in it comforted him. Not like in those horrible days after Sam died, the days before he sold his soul. This was warm, alive, moving, and- He looked up to see Sam watching him, a faint smile on his face, "Dude, you're crushing my hand." It was clearly difficult talking, and Dean relaxed his grip. Alive, talking, and with the wall intact. That was all that mattered, "So, how you feeling, Princess Peach?" Sam gave him a bitchface.  
"What? Would you prefer Mary Sue?" His brother tried to laugh, then stopped with a grimace as he realized how much it hurt. He shifted uncomfortably, "Dean, um..."  
"Yeah? You having lady problems?"  
"I'm lying on my hair." Dean reached underneath him and grabbed the long braid, pulling it so it hung off the side of the bed. "That better?" Sam nodded, sighing as he relaxed back into the pillows. Dean stared at him in relief, there were so many worse ways this could have gone.

A/N: See? Everything will be fine... The question, of course, is, why didn't Cas show up? And what are the other two up to? Patience... :)  
By the way, before any of you start complaining about my portrayal of the medical industry, this was based on my experience a couple of years ago when my Mom broke her arm. We eventually went to another hospital. I pretty much copied the receptionist's and security guard's lines word for word from that experience.  
Remember, requests and reviews make Sam feel better. 


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for reading, and the follows and favs. maxfan28535: Wow. Another review. Have I mentioned how much I love you? Patience... All will be revealed. By the way, 'The other two,' might have referred to Balthazar and Gabriel. :)

I do not own Supernatural or its characters. Same for OUAT, just to be safe.

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

Dean still had not left his brother's side an hour later, when he heard the flutter of wings and looked up to see a trench-coated figure studying the room. He stood up and angrily stalked over, "Where the hell have you been?!"

Cas turned his gaze onto him, "I was... detained."

"Detained? What the hell does that mean? Detained?"

"Some of Raphael's minion's. They were... more numerous than I expected." It was then that Dean noticed his slightly open mouth and the way he was swaying slightly as he stood. He grabbed his friend and lowered him into a chair, "Woah, woah, woah. Just... Just stay there."

"I will be all right, Dean. I expelled more grace than I could afford in my present state to get here, that's all."

"Well, what'd you do that for?"

Cas stared at him, "You were in need of my assistance. And given some of the... comments... thrown my way in your second prayer I assumed it was urgent."

"Damn straight it was urgent! You just waited to show up till it wasn't urgent!" Cas hung his head guiltily. Dean knew he should feel bad for talking to him that way, the angel really couldn't help what had happened, but right now he was much too stressed to bother apologizing. He looked around the room. So this was his team. His brother, tortured to a point that put him well out of commission, and in the wrong body to boot, and one injured angel with somewhat drained batteries.

"Terrific." he muttered.

* * *

Bobby walked in to find Sam lying in a hospital bed, and Cas sitting in a chair by the wall looking... not good. Dean looked annoyed and relieved, so nothing unusual there, but Bobby couldn't help wondering exactly what was going on, "Hey, Dean."

The man visibly jerked as he noticed Bobby's presence, "Dammit, Bobby! Warn a guy next time!" Still, he stood up and walked over to give the older hunter a hug. Wow. He really must have been bothered. He almost never did anything like that. Bobby pointedly looked at the injured parties, "So, what's going on?"

Dean glared at Cas, "Well, first off, Featherbrain here decided to take on the entire Ninja Turtle army and got his stupid celestial ass kicked."

"Dean, I told you, it was an accident. There were a great many more angels then I was expecting."

"Shut it. Meanwhile, Rapunzel managed to get kidnapped, presumably by some idiot hunters looking for demon info." Sam rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration at the nickname, but otherwise remained silent.

"Because Hot Wings was busy getting a beat down, I had to find Sam all on my own, which meant it took six hours. Then, I had to waste more time driving him to the hospital. Are we all caught up? Good." He had a defiant, angry look on his face that Bobby knew didn't bode well for reason.

Bobby decided to try anyway, "Well, looks like it all turned out for the best. No one's dead, you found Sam, Dean, and we can start getting some answers. Now how about you get your petticoats out of that massive twist so we can get to work." He wanted to sigh in relief when he saw Dean hesitate, then nod an assent. The young man looked around the room, and Bobby could see the gears in his brain starting to turn, "Cas! Exactly how injured are you?"

"I am afraid it will take me a while to heal. I will not be of much assistance for some days."

"What about teleporting? Think you could beam yourself over to the warehouse where I found Sam and scan it? Maybe our mystery people left something behind."

"I am... too drained at the moment, but I may be able to in a couple of hours."

"Great. Bobby, I don't think Sam is going anywhere for a while. Maybe you and I could get to work putting some symbols under these nice pictures, devils trap over the door, that kind of thing, get this place protected."

"Sounds like a plan."

Cas spoke, "Excuse me, perhaps we should gain some insight into the manner of people responsible for this? It may render my visit to the warehouse more useful, besides generally giving us information."

Dean stared at him, "Maybe you missed the part where I didn't see the bastards."

"You may not have, but Sam has," Cas pointed out. Sam smiled gratefully from the bed. He had been staying well out of the argument.

Dean paused, then turned to his brother, as though suddenly remembering his presence, "Yeah, okay Samantha, what do you remember?"

Sam gave his account of events as best he could, starting with his ill-fated walk in the parking lot, "...and then Greg came running back in yelling something about that someone was coming. They kind of packed up in a hurry after that. Got me off the table, dumped me in a corner and wheeled all their stuff out in, I'm guessing, under a minute. Tamara wanted to kill me, but Greg said I'd probably die from my injuries before anyone found me. Anyway, then Dean showed up, and you know the rest. That's all I know. I think I probably missed some stuff, 'cause, you know, pain, but, I think that's about it. Six more hours of crap I can thank Yellow Eyes for."

Dean stared at him, "Wow."

"Yeah."

"How did they know it was you? I mean..." he gestured toward Sam, who shrugged.

"I don't know. When they were leaving I heard Greg say something about that the 'home office' had found their next job. Maybe if they're working for someone, those people found out for them."

"So, we have a confirmation on dumb hunters with bad research. Cas! You ready to go?"

The angel considered. He would need enouph strength not only to get there, but to scan the area and walk the entire building before transporting back. "Just... Give me a few more minutes. I doubt anyone will disturb the scene before I can arrive." Dean seemed extremely on edge, and he hoped that the hunter would relax and think before doing anything stupid.

* * *

Dean felt sick as he helped Bobby draw warding symbols under the paintings on the walls. Sam's words rang in his head. Probably die from his injuries. When he thought about how close he had been to leaving, to moving on to the next abandoned building... nope, he wasn't going to go there. Still, Greg and Tamara were dead. Torturing Sam like that for that long, yeah, no way he was going to let them get away with that. Of course, he was the one that let them get to Sam in the first place. Another thing he didn't need to think about. He applied the marker with rather more force than necessary, taking his anger out on his job rather than his friends.

"You trying to break that marker?"

"Just thinking, Bobby."

The other man came to stand next to Dean, "It's not your fault, you know. You couldn't have stopped it."

Dean wondered if the man had read his mind, "I could have gone to that building first, instead of leaving it to, like, sixth or something."

"Yeah, and your daddy coulda gotten some grief counseling and saved everyone a lot of trouble and heartache. Things are the way they are, boy, nothing you can do about it. Now how about you help me with that devils trap."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hello dear readers! Thank you for the follows and favs. I love you guys!

maxfan28535: Thank you for your repeated reviews! I'm glad you enjoyed. I promise you will get answers… sometime.

Angeldonut: Thank you! Have another chapter!

I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

* * *

Chapter 8

* * *

Castiel appeared in the mill. Instantly he felt something messing with his senses, and his abilities in general. He walked down the hall, attempting to follow the energy to its source. It occurred to him that if he was going to deal with something this potent, he really should have allowed himself more time to gather his strength. Still, it was too late now. He would not be able to return for thirty minutes, unless he wanted to walk, and he might as well use the time effectively.

He could feel his head spinning as he walked into the room where Dean had found his brother. Then he saw why. The entire room was covered in symbols, symbols meant to block an angel's abilities, and particularly, keep any angels from sensing anyone in the room. No wonder his head hurt. It was an ingenious plan, clearly the people had known what to look for dealing with the Winchesters. Any angels coming to Dean's aid would be unable to sense Sam to find him, and if, by some miracle, they did find him, they would have no special abilities to bring to bear against the hunters. Dean couldn't have noticed the symbols because they were in vale ink. He decided to leave immediately. Whoever these people were, they were not to be trifled with, and he did not want to encounter them in his current state.

* * *

"Hello, Dean." Dean jerked in shock, spilling his coffee on himself as he heard an unexpected voice five inches from his shoulder, "DAMMIT, CAS!" He yelled, before standing up and turning around, to find himself almost nose to nose with the angel, "Personal space, do you mind?"

"Apologies," Cas spoke before collapsing. Dean caught him and eased him back into the chair, "What happened? I thought you said you'd need thirty minutes to recharge. It's only been fifteen."

"... Which explains my current predicament. I left rather quickly. Dean, these are no ordinary hunters. The entire building was warded. I've never seen anything like it."

"But you could go in."

"Yes. The warding was not to prevent entry, it was to shield those inside from being sensed, and to block the abilities of any angels that entered. Even if I had responded promptly to your call, it would have done no good. I could not have found your brother, nor could I have rescued him."

"Why couldn't I see the symbols? How could I have missed something like that?"

"Do not blame yourself. They were done in vale ink. These hunters would not appear so poorly informed as we supposed."

Dean started pacing, "Son of a bitch. Well, what do we do now?"

"I would recommend we lie low, and gather as much information about them as possible. Perhaps one of Bobby's friends would know something."

Dean sighed and nodded, "Sounds good. Not like Sam is going anywhere anyway."

"I would imagine not."

* * *

Bobby's friends, as it turned out, did not know anything. A few had heard of Greg and Tamara, but none had information on their location. Sam got out of the hospital a couple of weeks later. Cas, still recovering from his fight with Raphael's angels, went back with Bobby, planning to help him do research on Gabriel and the two hunters.

Sam and Dean, meanwhile, hit the road. Sam had found a job a few states away, and they were both looking forward to getting back to normal. Dean estimated they could be there in four days to a week, depending on how fast he wanted to drive, and how much sleep he was willing to sacrifice. None, at the moment, especially as Sam had turned extremely irritable.

"This isn't the turn, Dean!"

"Yeah it is."

"It's not! Honestly, why do you always have to- It's not!"

Dean gave him an odd look, "You feeling all right?"

"Of course I'm feeling all right! Why do you always ask me that?!"

"Woah, okay. Touchy."

"I'm not touchy!"

"Right, 'Couse that's why you're acting like such a little bitch."

"And I'm not a bitch! Seriously, why don't you just shut up for once in your damn life?!"

"Me shut up?"

"Yeah, you."

"Right. Okay. Um, how about some music." He turned on _I Love Rock and Roll_ by Joan Jett.

Sam changed the radio, "We are NOT listening to that again." He flipped through, finally settling on _Viva la Vida_ by Coldplay.

Dean stared at him in shock, "What are you doing?"

"I'm changing the radio. I'm sick and tired of listening to your crap, Dean. I wanna listen to something good for a change."

"This? Good? This is girl music, Sam. Oh wait-"

Sam sighed loudly, "And that's another thing. Could you quit with the girl jokes already? It's getting really old."

The elder Winchester stared back at the road, "Right, not a bitch."

"DEAN!"

* * *

Things had not improved when they arrived at a motel.

"You know, we could have made it a lot farther if you hadn't taken that turn back there."

Dean looked incredulous, "Oh, so now it's my fault?"

"You're the one driving so I'd say yeah, I think it's your fault!"

Dean yelled back at him, "You know what, what's with you lately? You're acting weird."

"Maybe I'm just sick of listening to you say dumb things!"

"No! It's not that! This isn't like you, Sam. Now just tell me what the hell is going on!"

Sam paused, standing awkwardly for a moment before saying at a normal volume, "Nothing. I'm fine." He started crying as Dean stared at him confusedly, "It's just, everything's going so badly, you know? And I don't understand… why everyone's picking on me." He grabbed onto Dean, burying his head in his brother's chest as he hugged him, "Why does everyone hate me?"

Dean stood for a moment in shock, before awkwardly patting Sam's back, "No one hates you. It's… okay."

"No! No it's not! I don't know what to do," He looked up at Dean, "You don't hate me, do you?"

"Um, no. I don't hate you. Look, um, how about you go to bed? Maybe things will look better in the morning." At long last, Sam released him, then wandered off toward the bedroom, still sobbing quietly. Dean stared after him. What the hell was wrong with Sam? The question kept him awake long into the night.

* * *

Dean was jolted awake the next morning by an unearthly shriek. Instantly awake, he grabbed the knife from under his pillow and jumped up, attempting to locate the source of the scream. The bathroom.

He banged desperately on the door, "Sam! Sammy! You okay in there?"

An incredibly freaked-out, wavering voice emanated from the bathroom, "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine."

"You sure? 'Cause it sure didn't sound like it from here."

"Um, I think so? I'll be out in a minute."

"All right. Just tell me if you need anything."

"Yeah. I'll do that."

Sam came out a short time later.

"Why are you walking like that?"

Sam looked at him innocently, "Walking like what?"

"Like you got something in your pants, or something. What-"

Sam interrupted him, "Listen, I'm taking the car. I need some things from the store. I'll be back soon." He grabbed the keys and started out the door. Dean called after him, "Wait. What was that about my car?" Dean heard the door of the Impala slam, and it was gone before he could pursue further questions.

* * *

"…Yeah, Bobby, he just started acting really weird… Like 'major mood swings' weird...No there aren't any hex bags!...There aren't, trust me, I checked…I don't know. It seems like every time we get something under control lately something else just gets dumped on top of it, you know what I'm saying?" The motel door started to open, "I'll call you back, Bobby." Sam walked in, laden with groceries. He set them down on the motel floor with a loud thump. Dean stared, "You get enouph stuff?"

Sam shot him a bitchface, "Everything in these bags is entirely necessary." He went to close the door. Dean glanced in a bag, "Really. You need ice cream?"

Sam shrugged, "I really wanted some."

"And _The Notebook_? Seriously? Talk about a chick-flick, dude."

"Shut up! It's a wonderful love story, about courage, and sacrifice, and…and the healing power of love that transcends time." Sam sounded strangely emotional.

Dean stared at him, "It's a movie." He sighed, "Whatever man, just, I'm not watching it with you."

Sam sounded annoyed again, "No one said you had to. Wait, no. No. Don't go near that bag!" He tried to snatch it out of Dean's hands. Dean held it out of reach, (wow, Sam being only 5'10'' really had its advantages) and pulled the package from inside. He laughed as Sam groaned, "Well, this explains a lot. Wow, dude, Gabriel really did a number on you, didn't he."

Sam grabbed it, "If you say another word-"

Dean held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, "Cross my heart. Hey, you know what they say, never argue with a girl on her period."

Sam stomped toward the bathroom, "You are such a frigging JERK!"

Dean laughed, "Right back atcha, bitch.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for reading! Extra thanks for the follows and favs! I love you guys!

I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

* * *

Chapter 9

* * *

Dean left a short time later. He needed support and there was no way Sam would let him tell anyone about this. Actually he had threatened to kill him if he told anyone, and right now Dean was slightly worried that he might. He scrolled through his contacts and called Bobby.

"Hey, Dean. What's going on?"

"Well, I figured out what's wrong with Sam."

"And? You find the son of a bitch responsible yet?"

"That's just it, Bobby. It's…not witches."

"Well, that's all I can think of that could do this. What is it?"

"He's… He's… It's girl stuff."

"What sorta girl stuff?"

Dean finally blurted out, "He's on his period, Bobby! I don't know what to do! It's like he's possessed or something!"

"I would hardly call mood swings 'possession'."

"It's not just that. Last I saw him, he was sitting on the couch with a tub of ice cream crying over _The Notebook_. I mean, what the hell."

Bobby paused, "Look, I know it's rough, but it'll all be over in a week or so."

"A week? I can't do this for a week. What am I supposed to do, Bobby? Hand him what he wants when he's crying, then run like hell before he tries to kill me?"

"Worked pretty well with Karen."

He heard some discussion, then the phone was passed, and Cas's voice came over the line, "Remember, he's just as confused as you are."

"I'm pretty sure no one's as confused as I am right now."

"All this is new to him too."

"I've had a girlfriend go on her period and she wasn't this bad. This is just insane."

"Dean, I thought something of this sort might happen, and I did some research. The hormone fluctuations are extreme, more so given that his body hasn't been through this before, and given the unnatural nature of the change."

"So I'm seeing the supercharged version? That's just great."

"He also, unlike the girlfriend you mentioned, hasn't had time to get used to it. He thinks the emotions he's feeling are real. He needs you to be there for him, Dean. Next time, his body should have lessened the hormone changes, and both of you should have learned better how to cope."

"Oh, no. There isn't a next time. I am not going through this again. We are finding Gabriel, and we are getting out of this. If we're still doing this next month, Bobby can deal with him."

Bobby's voice came from the background, "Like hell I am!"

"I mean it, Bobby! Now find the bastard!"

Cas cut through the argument, "We're trying, Dean."

"Well try harder!"

"Dean!"

"What?!"

"Nothing."

"Okay." He hung up.

* * *

Dean returned to find Sam curled on the couch, crying into Cas's trench coat. The angel was sitting beside him, looking immensely uncomfortable, awkwardly rubbing Sam's back comfortingly.

"You all right, Sammy?"

Sam looked up as Dean approached, betrayed sadness on his tearstained face, "You said you wouldn't tell anyone."

"I didn't."

"Then why is Cas here? I thought I could trust you, Dean."

"Look, Cas came because he thought we needed help with the case. Right Cas?"

Cas stared at him for a moment before answering, "It's true."

"See? That's all there is to it." Sam curled up into an even smaller ball of misery, clutching the trench coat like his life depended on it, the angel inside looking even more uncomfortable. Sam spoke, "Just leave me alone."

"Okay." There was a moment of silence, then Sam spoke again.

"Why'd you go out?"

Dean remembered his excuse, "Food run. Figured I should get something."

Sam looked up slightly, "You get burgers?"

"Uh, yeah. Don't worry though, I made sure to get you a salad."

Sam walked past him, grabbing the paper bag out of his hand, digging through it, and pulling out the burger. He unwrapped it and took a bite.

Dean stared in shock, "Seriously?"

"What? I'm hungry."

"Yeah but, burgers? Not really your thing, dude."

Sam ignored him, going back to curl up next to Cas, who looked like he was regretting not moving when he had the chance. Sam smiled slightly, "Mmm, this is delicious."

"So, uh, how was _The Notebook_?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, it was good."

Cas looked at Dean with a sincere expression, "It was good, Dean. You should see it sometime."

"Oh no. Not you to! Whatever, that is not happening."

He heard Sam start crying again as he walked away, "Why doesn't he want to do stuff with me anymore? Do you think it's something I did?" He started sobbing, "Why does he hate me?"

Cas spoke with awkward reassurance, "Um, he doesn't, I don't think." Dean rolled his eyes. Forget getting everything back to normal, he couldn't wait for Sam to stop drowning in hormone soup.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for the follows and favs. I Still haven't ever gotten a single request from anyone. You people are mean. Give me ideas! Please? I mean it. I have a pen. Give me requests or Dean dies. Haha, no. But seriously, please send me ideas. That means you, person reading this.

I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

* * *

Chapter 10

* * *

The next day, nothing had improved. Dean went out on a food run and when he got back, his brother was nowhere to be seen. He looked at Cas.

"Where's Sam?"

"In the bedroom. I think he's having an existential crisis."

Dean knocked on the door, and a tear-drenched voice emanated from inside, "Who is it?"

"It's Dean."

"Go away! I hate you!"

"You sure? I brought pizza."

There was a pause, "Okay."

Dean opened the door, "Oh man, what is it with you and the junk food lately? I-" Sam was lying face-down on his bed, crying into the pillow.

"What's wrong?"

"My life is hell! I want to die!" He punched the pillow, not moving. Dean's eyebrows went up, and he set the pizza on the dresser, before sitting on the bed and gathering Sam into his arms, "Okay, first off, you are talking to the wrong guy about your life being hell. I've been to Hell, and, believe me, this isn't it."

A muffled voice came from Sam, "I've been to Hell to."

"Yeah, but you don't remember. Take my word for it, your life isn't that bad. Secondly, you sure you want to die? I mean, you really want to go up to the holodeck and get chased around by a bunch of nutjobs who hate you 'cause you screwed up their apocalypse plans? Really?" Sam chuckled a little at that, "You messed it up to."

"Nah. I'm not the one who opened the cage and took both big bad boss angels in with me. I mean, you're amazing, dude. No one else could've done that."

Sam was quiet for a moment, "Thanks."

Dean stood up, "Hey, what are big brothers for, right? Now how about that pizza?"

Sam wiped at his face with his hands, smiling slightly, "Okay."

* * *

Castiel watched them from the corner, invisible. They looked so happy, so peaceful, so content in their world, such as it was. He felt the guilt welling up inside him again. He wanted nothing more than to stay here, pretending everything was fine, ignoring the guilt threatening to eat him alive. Still, watching them, he knew he couldn't. He couldn't sit, day after day, helping them, not with the secrets he was keeping. He wanted to tell them, he really did, but he knew Dean would not approve of his plan, and it was the only way. He had thought that he saw a way out, when he obtained Balthazar's weapons, but it had only taken one faceoff with Raphael, right after Balthazar brought Sam, Dean and Virgil back from the parallel universe, to prove that hope false. He had had the weapons, but he had been bluffing on that occasion, and he worried that Raphael knew it. No, there was no other way.

He looked back at the humans he had come to think of as family. He knew they would disapprove, but he was doing this for them, wasn't he? Or was his doubt, his guilt and his inability to be honest with them a sign? Was he on the right path? Regardless, he had a call to make. He still wasn't operating at full capacity, but he should be all right so long as he didn't have to do any smiting.

* * *

Crowley looked up from the ghoul he was torturing as Castiel appeared in the room, "Well, hello darling. And what sort of time do you call this?"

The angel stared at him, "You asked for this meeting. I assume you have something to say."

Crowley picked up a tumbler of alcohol, sipping it gingerly before holding it to gesture with, "What, not even a bit of foreplay? I'm insulted." He set it on the table, "Very well, I'll get right to it. Moose and Squirrel, your pets, I need their location."

"Not a chance. Why would you request such a thing? We have discussed this, I will not let you kill them."

"Well aren't you melodramatic. I recall our conversation. I merely wish to keep an eye on them."

"Why? They are hairless apes. They are no threat to you."

"They may be 'hairless apes' but they're dangerous. The location, now."

"No."

The demon looked affronted, "We have a deal!"

"Yes, and Sam and Dean are not part of it."

"Look, what do you think Sam and Dean would do if they learned of our dalliance? Grab you in a hug and wish you good luck?"

"No. They would feel… betrayed… I imagine."

"Yes, and when the Winchesters feel betrayed, it's a good idea to get out of Dodge. I just want to be in the loop when I need to call a taxi."

"They will not learn anything."

"Of course they will. They always do. Especially as you keep consorting with them."

"I can assure you, they suspect nothing."

Crowley stared at him for a few more seconds, then turned back to pick up the tumbler.

Castiel spoke, "Actually, the deal, I would rather like to speak with you about it."

The demon looked back at him, "I'm listening."

"I want out."

"What?! What the bloody hell is this? I thought-"

"I am having second thoughts."

"Why? We're on the same side here. You want Raphael's head on a pike, I want you to get Raphael's head on a pike. What's the problem?"

"I am uncertain that this is the right thing to do."

"You mean, 'would my Daddy want this.' I thought we threw out the rulebook. I'm the King of Hell, you've Fidel Castro'ed Heaven, we make our own rules."

"Not entirely. There is still right and wrong."

Crowley sighed, "Look, which one would you rather have, some temporary discomfort due to Squirrel throwing a hissy fit, which he will get over, you're family after all, they always forgive family, or all of us, including your precious little pets, not to mention the majority of the universe, dead. Because that's what will happen if Raphael takes charge."

Castiel turned away, "I am aware of the stakes."

"Are you?! Because we're facing Armageddon, and you're wringing your hands!" He sighed, "Are you in or not? Please make up your mind, you're worse than a congressman."

The angel considered. He was well familiar with the argument Crowley had just made. It was the same one he told himself every day. He forced himself to imagine Sam and Dean broken and bloody, Raphael standing over their bodies. It was the only way he could bear the strain of keeping this from them. Besides, he would only contain the power for a couple of hours, long enouph to destroy Raphael, no longer. The humans would never even have to know. This would be over soon enouph, and then everything could continue as normal. He could even tell them, and they would all laugh about it, after Dean yelled at him and possibly punched him in the face, of course, but it would be all right. Wouldn't it? After all, Sam had drunk demon blood, chosen Ruby over Dean, and released Lucifer, and he had been forgiven. And what other options did he have, really? The weapons? They certainly helped, but there was nothing there to actually destroy an archangel. No, they were useless. He had already thought this over, and this was the only path. The only choice. He turned back to the demon, "I'm in."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hello everyone! I am so sorry for the hellatus. I didn't mean for it to happen. I ran out of ideas. What can I say, you people should send requests. Snowball8679: Thank you so much for the only request I have ever gotten. I put it in this chapter, I hope you like it. Olivesandowls2001: Thank you for your review. It was greatly appreciated. I assure you I had a great time writing this storyline. It's something I've been planning from this fic's conception. Jamiefin: Yes, Cas is in on it. Why, Supernatural writers, why?! *Gross sobbing* Unfortunately, I cannot change canon. Here's your update, I will try not to let it go so long again. Lessley00: I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Yeah, that was a looong time ago now. Please keep reading!

I do not own Supernatural or its characters.

* * *

Chapter 11

* * *

Dean walked into the motel room, setting down bags of Chinese, "Hey, Sammy! I'm back! You want food?" No response. Dean walked through the room, "Sam?" Finally he heard a thump. Following the noise, he walked around a bed to find Sam, lying on the ground, his long limbs flailing everywhere, every muscle in his face contracted, forcing his mouth into a horrible straight sort of grin. "Sam!" Dean dropped beside him, ignoring the pain as an arm caught him in the face. He shook his brother, "Sam! Sammy! Come on, wake up!" The seizers continued for at least another thirty seconds, then slowed jerkily, like a demented wind-up toy running out. Finally they stopped, Sam's body going limp. Dean shook him again, then paused, "No. No, no, no, no, no." He gathered the slight figure into his arms, a single tear falling down his cheek, "No. Come on, you gotta fight this. Come on, Sam. Come on, you can't go, not like this. Not today. Come on dammit. You gotta hold on. Please," He paused, "Sam?" No response. "SAAAM!"

* * *

Dean jerked awake to a sitting position, breathing hard. He looked over at the neighboring bed. Sam lay there, sleeping peacefully, a smile gracing his feminine face as he slept. Dean swung his legs out of bed, sitting to watch Sam sleep, reassuring himself that his brother was still alive. Back before the change, he'd sometimes even put his hand on Sam's chest, in desperate need of the added reassurance that he was breathing. Even now he wanted to, despite the fact that it would be really creepy. The dream scared him. He'd had it many times before, the dream of Sam's wall falling, though this was the first time the female version had featured. He watched the gentle rise and fall of breath, the smile ensuring the dreams weren't deadly Hell memories, and sighed, standing to go get himself a beer. As long as he was up, he might as well do some work. Also, maybe it would help shake the image of that tight, grimacing smile that haunted him.

He got on the laptop, searching for signs of Gabriel. That needed to be top priority. Finding Gabriel and making him pay. Failing that, he would take news of the two clumsy douchebags that had tortured Sam. The thought of them made him see red. Dean skimmed through one google search after another, cursing as he got nowhere. Research was Sam's department. He never had been half so good at it. At least things were (sort of) back to normal now. It had been a couple of weeks since the "period" incident, and they were coping pretty well. Cas had disappeared a few days into it and no one had heard from him since. Dean hoped he was all right. He worried about the angel. Cas had been acting weird lately, and Dean hoped he hadn't bitten off more than he could chew with Raphael. He frustratedly clicked the "next" button on his current search.

At the same moment, almost as though the click had caused the next event, Cas fell to the floor from a few feet up with a thud, an awkward mass of tan coat and feathers. Wait… feathers? Dean did a double take. No, he was right. Cas lay on his back, two immense jet black wings stretching from his shoulders. Dean stared in shocked fascination as the angel moaned, attempting to roll onto his side to stand up, only to cry out in pain and roll back as he landed wrong on one wing.

Coming to himself, Dean ran to help, carefully stepping over one wing, haphazardly sprawled across the floor like a foreign body unrelated to the rest. He grabbed Cas's arm, hauling him to a sitting position.

"Thank you, Dean."

"What happened to you?"

"I… Don't know. I was-" He broke off. He had been on a mission for Crowley, and that was NOT something Dean needed to know about. "It doesn't matter. Anyway, all of a sudden I found myself here." He stretched one wing around, running a hand down it as though as surprised and confused by it as Dean was, "This is wrong."

"Yeah. No shit, Sherlock."

Cas looked at him, confused. His name wasn't- Oh well. He would figure it out later. For now he would just let it go. "No, this is very wrong. My wings should not be manifest."

A door opening attracted Dean's attention, and he looked to see a bleary-eyed Sam stumbling in, eyes squeezed shut and hair sticking up at all angles from his long braid. He ran his hand through the hair at the top of his head, only succeeding in making it stick up more. He put a hand on the wall, not opening his eyes as he spoke, "Dean, what are you doing? It's three in the morning. Do you have to crash around like that?"

"Yeah, well, we have something of an emergency."

"Huh?" His eyes opened ever so slightly, "Oh. Hi Cas. Well, I'm going to bed now. See you in the morning. Please shut up." He started to walk out of the room, then turned back around, unsure he had really seen what he thought he had, "Wait. Cas, do you have… wings?"

Cas sighed, "Yes. It would seem that something has occurred. Regardless, I should be going." He sat for a few seconds, staring into space. His eyes narrowed.

"Well?"

The angel looked over at Dean, "I don't understand. I am unable to go anywhere."

"What do you mean 'you can't go anywhere?'"

"Something is interfering with my grace."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hello everyone! Here's a chapter! Anyway, sorry that I have been taking so long to update, I've been going through a dry spell with this fic. I have plans, but I seem to be having trouble getting them down on paper. *Sigh.* Guest: Hi! Welcome to the fic! Always great to meet a new reader. Glad you like it! the-goblet-of-deduction: I'm so happy you enjoyed. I'm currently working on more chapters, and I will be sure to get you your request soon. Spoilers!

* * *

Chapter 12

* * *

They had tried to get Cas up off the floor, which had quickly turned into a fiasco. First he had overbalanced as they let go of him, falling back to the floor with enouph force to make Dean wince. Then he managed to get up on his own, leaning forward and spreading his wings a bit for balance. As he did so the right one extended too far and knocked against a freestanding lamp, felling it to the floor with a crash. That wing instantly withdrew inward, almost like a knee-jerk reflex. At the same time, the other extended further to compensate, swiping everything off the table.

Now they sat exhaustedly around the motel table. Sam was absently stirring a cup of instant black coffee he had found in one of the cabinets and staring at his laptop screen. Cas sat across from him, eyeing the wreck of a room like it might attack him, wings pulled in tight to his back, the feathers puffed up with distress. Dean sat on the third side, nursing his beer from earlier. Somehow the wing scraping across the table had just missed it, for which he was extremely grateful. He didn't need the mess. He studied the massive things. That looked like a wingspan of what, twenty, thirty feet? One pinion feather was as long as his arm, many were longer. They had obviously just sprouted there, the trenchcoat and other layers ripping to make room for them. Dean reached out almost unconsciously, running his fingers through the soft downy feathers on the upper back. It felt really nice. Curious, he lifted up a few, revealing the pink skin beneath. Huh. It was completely normal, like human skin rather than the chicken or other poultry skin he had been expecting. He continued his explorations, stroking the feathers smooth again and moving to card his fingers along one pinion.

"Dean?" Sam's voice cut into his consciousness. He looked up innocently. Cas and Sam were both giving him weird looks. Realizing what he was doing, Dean withdrew his hand as though burned, stammering an apology. Cas eyed him like a frightened animal, drawing his wings a little closer around him.

Sam smiled awkwardly, his brow stitching up, "What are you doing?"

Dean looked from one to the other, "Nothing."

"Okay, well," Sam sighed, obviously too tired to successfully come up with a witty retort. "Anyway, I think I might have found something on Gabriel."

Dean leaned forward slightly, "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's not much, but I might have a lead on where he is."

Dean stood up, "Great, let's get over there. We can track him down, get him to change you back, and shank him. Sounds good to me."

Sam didn't move, "Dean, he's an archangel, on a level with Raphael, second only to Michael and Lucifer. How exactly do you plan to kill him?"

"Uhh, walk up, take out an angel blade and shove it in him."

"Really? That's it?"

Dean paused, "Yeah. That's it. It's not rocket science, Sam."

Sam looked down, "Right. Okay, well, I'll pack up. Cas, you wanna help?"

* * *

Ten minutes later they were speeding down the highway, rock music blaring. Dean eyed the angel in the back seat, wings stuffed around him, barely fitting in the confined space. "You had better not shed. I don't want to see any feathers on that seat."

Sam left off toying with his braid to roll his eyes and glare at him, "Dean…"

"What? It's a legitimate concern. It's up there with him knocking out a window. Speaking of which, don't knock out any windows, Cas."

"Dean!"

"What?"

"That was rude. Now apologize."

"Just laying the ground rules, Sammy."

"Dean, I'm pretty sure birds don't shed. Birds molt."

"Oh, okay. Don't _molt_ on my car, Cas," Dean said sarcastically.

"There's a difference. Your precious car is safe, I promise."

Dean sighed, "Okay, so where are we going?"

"Uh…" Sam consulted his notes, "Wyoming somewhere. Absaroka County. Near Montana. Town called, Uhh, Durant."

"Guess I'd better drive faster then."

* * *

They walked into the hotel room, the door closing heavily behind them as Dean shouldered it closed, both brothers' hands too full of duffels to deal with it. Sam set his bags down on one of the beds with a sigh, before going back to studying his braid with annoyance. Dean looked at him, "What's eating you?"

Sam sighed, "I should probably rebraid it."

"Dude, it's out of the way. Why mess with it?"

"Um, because it's been in for well over a month and it looks really bad?"

Dean scoffed, "Who the hell cares. It's not like you're looking to get laid."

The girl turned to him with an annoyed expression, "Is that all you ever think about? Honestly, could you stop? I don't really even think about that stuff anymore except when you bring it up."

Dean stared at him, "You're kidding."

"No."

"You don't ever…" He made a vague gesture.

"No."

"Wow." He shook his head, "Unbelievable."

Sam ignored him, rummaging through his duffle until he found a hairbrush. Sitting on the bed, he removed the fastening and started to work his way up the braid, leaving somewhat tangled waves in the wake of his fingers.

Dean started to unpack the weapons bag, "Hey, Cas! What are you gonna do tonight?"

"I thought I would stay here."

"I meant, how much juice you got? You need to sleep?"

The angel suddenly looked slightly worried, "I… don't know. I suppose I can use the couch if it becomes necessary."

"Okay. Good."

Sam let out a grunt. Dean turned to him, "Now what?"

"I can't seem to get the top. Could you brush it out for me?"

The blond man rolled his eyes and let out an obnoxious sigh, "Fine. Give me the brush. Let's see what I can do." Sam pulled his legs up on the bed, turning so Dean could stand behind him.

"Wow. This is gonna be a _bitch_. What the hell did you do?"

"Left it up for over a month while hunting, getting tortured, and going to the hospital."

Dean shrugged, "Fair enouph. Hold still, this'll probably hurt. So, uh, what're we looking at with this? What's the lead?"

Sam leaned toward the bag to get his research, then allowed Dean to continue working as he spoke, "Well, uh, it's not much, but there've been some weird deaths in the area." He sucked in a sharp breath as Dean made a particularly painful tug.

"What sort of weird deaths?"

"Uh, you know, the usual. Just deserts, that kind of thing. There've been two so far. Husband on the nearby reservation was a wife beater. Everyone knew, but no one was ever able to prove anything. Turned up, beaten to death."

"Not exactly X-Files…"

"Witness said the attacker was Wonder Woman."

Dean inclined his head, "Okay. What was the other one?"  
"Anti-Indian racist jerk, found with a tomahawk buried in his skull, hoof prints all around the body, none anywhere else, and a truckload of candy wrappers."

"I don't know, man. This all just sounds like regular trickster stuff. Thought Gabriel said he was on the wagon."

"Yeah, but for now, this is the best lead we have, so I'm checking it. OW!" He turned to glare at Dean, "Dude! That hurt!"

"Oh, come on, don't be such a wuss, you giant girl. You want this mat out or not?"

Sam rolled his eyes at the pun, but turned back and allowed him to continue working.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Hello everyone! Apologies for the long wait. I've been really busy with school and have been battling writer's block on this story. _Pssst! Reviews make me want to post!_

* * *

Chapter 13

* * *

Dean woke up in the middle of the night to a dark room and a shadowy shape standing over him. Glancing at the other bed, he could see Sam was asleep. That only left one candidate. He looked back at the shadow, eyes lidded and half-closed, "What is it?"

Cas's voice sounded through the room, "Dean, I am afraid I am in need of assistance."

"Uh-huh. At one-o'clock in the freaking morning?"

The angel's eyes narrowed confusedly, "It's 12:06."

"Yeah, Cas. Figure of speech. What do you need?"

"How do I… Dean, how do I go to sleep?"

The man chuckled, "Getting tired, huh?"

Cas cocked his head in an odd sort of nod, "It is a strange, but necessary process. As a human I had hoped you could explain it to me."

"Uhh… I don't know. You just sort of lie there and eventually you wake up."

"I do not understand…"

"Just- just go lie down, Cas. Try counting sheep."

Dean heard the angel mutter as he turned and walked away, "What sheep? We do not own any sheep. What could sheep possibly have to do with…"

Shaking his head at the retreating figure, Dean turned over to go back to sleep.

* * *

The next day it was agreed that Cas would stay in the room, out of sight, while Sam and Dean went to do interviews and get information. Dean pulled into a parking spot outside a bar, according to the sign called "The Red Pony." Sam stared at him, "Seriously, dude?"

Dean returned his look, "What? Bars are a good place to get info."

Sam blinked, speaking as they exited the car, "Okay, just, remember we're here to work, not drink."

"Yeah, yeah." Dean muttered under his breath, "Prude."

Sam glanced at him, a confused look on his face, "What?"

"What?"

Sam shook his head, "Nothing."

Dean looked him over, "Hey, uh, by the way, you're really pretty with your hair down like that."

Sam stared at him, "Dean…"

"I'm just saying, you should wear it like that more often. It's all…" He motioned with his fingers, "…Wavy and stuff."

"Shut up."

Dean smiled as the entered the bar, making their way to sit at the counter. The Indian bartender was on the phone at the moment, and so they sat for a minute, absorbing the atmosphere and casing the clientele.

A big guy in a cowboy hat came swaggering over, pointedly ignoring Dean as he leaned over the counter, "Hey."

Sam glanced at him, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, "Hi."

"So, uh, my name's Fred Morgan. What's yours?"

"Uh… Sam."

"Cute name." His eyes raked over Sam and the girl shot a glare at Dean who was trying desperately not to laugh.

"Don't suppose you'd let me buy you a drink. Pretty girl like yourself, damn shame for you to have to go thirsty."

"No… that's okay."

"You sure? It's my treat."

Dean finally decided to help his brother out, "Hey! Dick! She's not interested in you."

For the first time the man took notice of Dean, "Yeah? And how would you know?"

Dean put his arm around Sam's shoulders and donned a vaguely possessive smile, "'Cause she's here with me. Right, baby?" He grinned at Sam, whose expression was rapidly sliding towards bitchface. Then he suddenly smiled back, "Always, honey," and gave Dean a kiss on the cheek. Dean gave the guy a smile, "See? Now get lost."

Sam's smile vanished and Dean retracted his arm as soon as the guy left. Sam spoke, "I can't decide if this is better or worse than when everyone thought we were gay."

"Better. Definitely better."

"Yeah, well you're not stuck as the girl."

"Dude, they already thought you were the girl."

"Hilarious."

A new voice broke in, "I hope he didn't give you any trouble." They looked up to see the bartender, away from the phone and standing in front of them. Dean spoke, "Oh, no. It's fine. You know how it is. Sammy here's so pretty, can't get rid of them. Don't know why she stays with me."

Sam smiled tightly, "Just stupid, I guess."

"I am Henry. What are you doing here?"

Dean's arm snaked back around Sam's shoulders, an idea coming to him, "Oh, you know. We're just passing through. We're doing a road trip for our one year anniversary of us dating. We're trying to see as many states as possible."

The bartender continued to smile, "A laudable goal."

Dean continued to talk over the next few minutes, trying to build up a relationship with the bartender and make him amenable to giving them information. Dean thought they were doing quite well.

"Hey, so, um, how about these deaths, huh?"

The man leaned on the bar, an incredulous look slightly altering the ever-present smile, "This is a bar. We serve drinks. If you want information, I recommend speaking with the sheriff."

Dean smiled, "Point taken. Two beers, please."

"Good."

* * *

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled in frustration as they walked out.

"I don't know, I thought we were doing pretty well until the end there."

"Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you go chat up Fred? I think he likes you."

Sam glared at him across the top of the car, "Dean, if you ever mention that again-"

"What? It was a valid suggestion. I'm serious."

"No. Never. Not in a million years."

Dean shrugged, climbing into the car as he spoke, "Fine. Who's first on the list?"

"Ummm… widow of wife-beater guy."

Dean started the car, "Okay."

* * *

About half an hour later the bartender made his way over to a new arrival, a middle-age man with a gun on his belt and an air of authority.

"Walt, it is good to see you."

"I got your call. What is it Henry?"

"There were two people in here earlier, a man and a woman, asking about the murders. They were trying to pass themselves off as curious passers-through. I thought you would like to know."

"What happened?"

"They are bad actors."


End file.
